


Hold Me Close and Hold Me Fast

by AWalkingParadox



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Gen, Mentions of alcohol, Some angst, a bit messy, i can get really descriptive sometimes, pining?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 00:47:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19779850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWalkingParadox/pseuds/AWalkingParadox
Summary: The first thing Peter Nureyev does when he meets Juno’s eye is smile and say words he hasn’t heard in, well,a while.





	Hold Me Close and Hold Me Fast

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Mentions of alcohol and blood
> 
> Please tell me if there are more!

The first thing Peter Nureyev does when he meets Juno’s eye is smile and say words he hasn’t heard in, well, _a while_.

The second thing he does is hop off the Ruby 7, and walk confidently forward, hips swaying and heels clicking against the metal floor. 

The third thing he does is embrace Juno.

Juno stills as Nureyev wraps his arms around him, and melts almost immediately into the warmth. The taller man buries his face in the curls of Juno’s head, and no one else sees nor feels the dampness that follows his tears. Nureyev is clutching him like a lifeline, and Juno can’t deny that he’s doing the same, gripping the hem of Nureyev’s blouse like if they separate now, nothing will ever bring them back together again. 

And it feels so good and so wrong.

Because Juno has wronged him. Because Nureyev couldn’t possible have forgiven him, and because Juno sure as hell hasn’t forgiven himself. Because even if they’re so physically close that when Juno looks up, he can see the wet sheen in Nureyev’s eyes, and the way his lips form an echo of a word, they are still so far apart, a chasm where words alone cannot fill. 

”I can’t say I forgive you, or if I’m ready to, because it would be untrue,” Nureyev murmurs, and Juno sees this coming, knows it’s coming, and yet he can’t stop the terror and the pain that holds his heart in their viselike grip. “But, I’m so _terribly_ happy that you’re safe.”

Juno has nothing to say, nothing can possibly explain what he’s done, nothing to excuse what he’s done, nothing for this small, safe, pocket in time wherein the past leaves them untouched and unmarred. 

“Nure—“

“I apologize.” Nureyev says, untangling their arms and straightening his shoulders. Juno can almost see the mask lock into place. “That was very untoward of me. If you will excuse me, I have to....I have to go. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” 

And before Juno can protest, he is alone in the ship’s carport, with the Ruby 7 humming an almost remorseful whisper.

-•-

The second time he sees Nureyev is in the ship’s kitchen, in the dead of night. The halls are lit by the soft blues and purples and pinks and reds and colors of space. 

Juno walks barefooted, the pads of his feet almost silent against the cold tiles. He had woken up minutes ago, with the sobriety and numbness of one who will, most likely, be unable to go back to sleep. So instead, he opts to get a glass of water. 

When he gets there, however, he sees he isn’t the first. Against the stove leans a silhouette of a man, looking, in the dark of night, like a statue frozen in its depiction of sorrow. His shoulders are slumped and his posture contrite, his lips are thinly pressed together in a thoughtful frown.

He looks so alone. 

Juno considers approaching him, considers apologizing and making amends, but then the shadows shift and he sees a small drop of silver fall from the eyes of the thief he had hurt all those moons ago, and so he turns and leaves the man in his solitude.

-•- 

He sees Nureyev many times after that. In the meetings with the crew, at the table during meals, lounging on the coach in between the lulls of heisting. They’re never alone. 

Somehow, in a ship as large as this, somehow Nureyev is _always_ there. He catches the tail end of Nureyev’s coat as he turns the corner, he hears a soft, lilting laugh as it floats in from the cockpit, he sees the blinding smile Nureyev gives everyone but him. He wishes he couldn’t.

Right now, they’re like orbiting planets, always in vicinity, always in sight, which one orbits, he doesn’t know. An apology rests on his lips every time he sees Nureyev, those sharp eyes or the lean face or the way his canines don’t fit into his in quite as well as normal teeth do, but extends down and rests on the lower lip and glints under fluorescent lights. He drinks in the cherub face, like a flower starving for sunlight. 

He takes to drinking again.

-•-

He’s in his room, taking a swig from Martian wine, strong enough to burn through your stomach if you’re not careful. It’s night again, or at least he thinks it is. The curtains are drawn and the door locked and the outside shut out. Juno stares blearily at the wall, imagining in his alcohol addled brain that perhaps Peter Nureyev is here, and the shadows that cover up the grey wall seem to nod in reply.

_I’m sorry_. He says. _I’m sorry for hurting you_. 

He takes another swig, setting the bottle to the side and slumping against the wall, arm slung over his eye. He’s alone in his room, and he thinks he may have mumbled _something_ , but he passes out before the words fully register.

_I miss you._

-•-

They have to steal a painting, a truly horrid looking one, bad art specialist and former detective Juno Steel thinks, but one that’s costs a fetching price of three million creds. 

He has to go with Nureyev, and the other looks as happy as Juno feels.

Juno doesn’t say a word. This isn’t his decision to make. This isn’t a punishment, as he would’ve thought before. 

On the other side of the table, Nureyev purses his lips and nods in acquiescence. 

-•-  
He remembers the way the comms fizzle out and darken, the footsteps that were too close for comfort, the terror that had flashed through Nureyev’s eyes, _he’s scared Nureyev is scared_ , and surely through his own one. He remembers the promise he had made to himself, back when he was strapped to a chair and having his blood drained out of him, and declared that he was not going to die. 

He remembers taking Nureyev’s hand in his own, and he remembers promising they’re both making it out alive.

He remembers the high pitched whine of the laser gun, the grip of Nureyev’s hands as he shoved Juno behind him, the weight of a body falling into his arms.

He remembers these as he comes running to the ship, a dying thief in his arms.

He remembers these as he watches Vespa wheel him towards the infirmary, remembers the panic in Buddy’s eye.

He remembers.

-•-

Once again, it’s night. The soft beep of the monitor permeates the air, and Juno listens closely. He sits by Nureyev’s bedside, making a promise the unconscious man won’t hear. 

_I’m not leaving you tonight._

The chair he sits in is uncomfortable, rough and hard and pokes him in all the wrong places. It was the only chair available. He stays at Nureyev’s side, watching the green lines that mark each beat of his heart, and prays to a god he’s never believed in.

Nureyev doesn’t wake, Vespa says she doesn’t know when he will. Rita holds him close, enveloping him in a warmth that makes him weep, and tells him to rest.

He does, staring at Nureyev’s prone form, and begging him to live. 

_I love you._

-•-

Nureyev wakes in a week. Juno doesn’t hear of it till Rita knocks on his door, beaming.

He gets to the infirmary in less than a minute. 

Peter Nureyev is slumped against a starch white pillow, pale and small, eyes tired but oh so much alive. He smiles gently when Juno enters, and this time, Juno doesn’t hold back the tears the fall down his face and onto the linoleum tiles.

-•-

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I hurt you. I left you.”

“You came back.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“You didn’t leave me this time.”

“I couldn’t. I want to see what’s out there. With you.”

-•-

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda wrote this in a mood, honestly  
> Just needed to vent but not _vent_ Y’know?  
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this, even if it is really messy and honestly all over the place  
> Comments would be lovely^^  
> And constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
